Back to Budapest
by AgentEquus
Summary: Somebody (that means you, Stark) screwed up a time machine and sent agents Hill, Coulson, Romanoff, and Barton as well as Bruce and Tony back in time to Budapest. Chaos ensues. *unbeta'd*
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Before I say anything else, I'M SO SORRY I DON'T POST STUFF MORE OFTEN ;-; I love you all, I really but school and life have seriously kicked my butt lately. I had a one-shot called "Fan Mail" about halfway written, but the laptop it was on was stolen out of my house last weekend. So I'm gonna try and rewrite it once school slows down a bit. But anywhos, enjoy the beginning to my new story! It's unbeta'd because I wrote it on my phone (hour long bus rides are actually good for something! Yay!) but I'm freaking OCD about grammar anyway, so it should be OK. I may or may not continue this depending on feedback. **

**Oh, and I have a message for you all. Stark, would you like to do the honors?**

**Tony: Gladly, Ms. ...? *wiggles eyebrows suggestively* **

**Me: It's Agent Equus to you, Stark. Now get on with it.**

**Tony: But...**

**Me: Stark, you have a girlfriend. And I would not like to be the one to break it to her that you can no longer have children.**

**Tony: You wouldn't. **

**Me: Oh but I would. **

**Tony: Fine, FINE! She doesn't own me (thank God), the Avengers, or Marvel and never will. Are you happy now?**

**Me: Very. **

* * *

"A time machine, huh?" Fury was skeptical at the least. As brilliant as Stark and Banner were, a time machine? That was a little crazy even for SHIELD. "I must say you've outdone yourself, Mr. Stark."

"Does it actually work?" Hill asked from outside the lab (she was actually more intrigued than she'd ever admit afterwards) and got the patented of-course-it-works-we're-geniuses look from both men at the same time.

"Should be functional within the hour," Tony replied, spreading his hands and shrugging casually.

"Until this tech is completed and able to be handed over to SHIELD, Agent Hill and Agent Coulson will be here keeping an eye on it... and you. While this might not technically be a weapon, it could be highly dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." Fury was the recipient of the look this time. "Yes, Stark, I'm leaving them here. No, you cannot ditch them."

* * *

Barton and Romanoff stopped by (and by stopped by, walked downstairs) the next afternoon to check progress and relieve their two superior agents for half an hour. According to Stark and Banner, the tech was operational but still needed tweaking. All that was left to fix was the control panel- some of the buttons were sticky and Bruce was adamant about fixing them, lest someone accidentally open up an interstellar wormhole. Or black hole. Both would be rather problematic. Although they didn't show it, both senior agents were relieved to escape the sterile lab, take a shower, and grab a bite to eat. Sleep would've been nice, too, but that was a luxury that was currently unavailable. By the time they returned, the lab was still completely intact, nobody had been impaled with any of the myriad of knives the master assassins kept on their person, and Natasha hadn't killed Stark... yet. Honestly, both Hill and Coulson were rather shocked, though neither of them could say that they hadn't been expecting the inevitable question from Stark.

"So, Natashalie, Legolas, care to tell us what really happened in Budapest?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. The two spies shot each other a look, and Hill knew Coulson could read the silent conversation between the two perfectly- that man had it down to a science.

_Should we tell him?_

_No. _

_Agreed. _

_Let's piss him off. Just for fun. _

_You're diabolical. _

_I know. _

"So, Stark, you really wanna know what happened in Budapest?" Natasha leaned over the balcony of the catwalk, glancing at Clint, who swore he actually saw Stark's ears perk up.

"Spill it, Natashalie," the billionaire replied smugly. Bruce rolled his eyes from behind Tony's back and mumbled "They're not going to tell you..." under his breath.

"Well... Barton and I were sent on a top-secret mission..." she began, looking at Hawkeye again.

"To take out a top-secret smuggling ring," the archer continued. "However, we got bad intel..."

"... And the mission was compromised to hell," Natasha finished. "But we hid in a church..."

"... Got secretly married..."

"... Took out five hundred men..."

"... Broke three ribs..."

"... And have been lying to you this entire time."

For a moment, Stark just stood there gaping. Bruce snorted quietly and Hill rolled her eyes. Then the sarcasm began.

"So, Natashalie, you're lying about this now too? That's just incredible. How can you handle so many lies? Or maybe you don't. Maybe you're really telling me the truth and just expecting me to believe you're lying. In fact, I don't think you're even lying. Is there even anything real about you? 'Cause I don't think so."

"You don't know a damn thing, Stark," Natasha shot back, composed and deadly as ever. "You have no clue about what went on over there, you don't _want_ to know what happened over there, and I'm going to keep it that way."

The genius just stood there for a beat, staring at the master assassins and trying to conceal just how ticked off he was. Then he sighed, took a long drink out of his ever-present glass of scotch, and turned to get back to work.

Clint noticed something was off just a second before disaster struck. In the few minutes the dispute had taken, something in the room had changed. "Nat," he muttered to his partner, "something doesn't feel right." Though her face remained unchanged, he heard her click off the safety on her Glocks. Then Tony tripped over a wire that Barton swore hadn't been there before, and all hell broke loose.

Tony went flying forward into the time machine, whose exposed control panel met his outstretched palm with a thud mixed with a crack as his head hit into the raised metal guard box. Some of the wires began to smoke, and there was a hissing noise Coulson was pretty sure he shouldn't be hearing.

"What did you do?" Maria hissed at Stark as Coulson hauled him up off the ground.

"That was basically the equivalent of pressing all the buttons at once," Bruce answered, his skin taking on a faint greenish tint. Beside him, Clint felt Natasha start to back away down the catwalk. He quickly followed suit.

"Bruce, hang on. You have to help me get Tony out of here before this goes critical," Coulson told the man, laying a hand on his arm. Bruce nodded, breathing deeply a few times, and hoisted Tony's other arm over his shoulders.

"Hill, call for a full evacuation," Coulson called over his shoulder. "Then get the hell out of here." Tony shot him a look, to which he replied to by pointing a finger at the time machine. A red button had lit up and was beeping as the entire machine shook violently. "Stark, what happens if that thing goes off?"

"Either catastrophic failure or we're all shot back in time," he rattled off.

"And how long do we have?"

"I'd say another... five seconds or so." At this point, the Hulk emerged, breaking free of Bruce's control. Clint could hear Natasha's breath catch at the sight of the monster that almost killed her on the Helicarrier. "Run," he whispered to her, pushing her down the catwalk and sighing as she dug her heels in. "Tasha, run, I'm right behind you!" This got her going and the two took off down the catwalk.

"Hill, get down!" Coulson yelled at the deputy director as the seconds ticked down. Maria seemed to be frozen in place, though. "Stark, get out of here. Hill, get DOWN!" Tony made it clear just as the timer hit one. Disregarding the impending blast, Coulson threw himself at Maria, tackling the agent and shielding her with his body just as the explosion went off. The Hulk roared somewhere, but it was foggy and distant-sounding, and then everything was lost in the flash of white light that ensued.

* * *

Natasha groaned and blinked blearily a few times, waiting for her vision to focus. Her ears were ringing horribly and she groaned again.

"Tasha?" Barton's barely-whispered inquiry was followed by a bout of coughing.

"I'm right next to you, Clint. At least, I think I am." Painstakingly she pulled herself up against the metal railing,

"Tasha?" Clint's voice was stronger now, and louder. "So what do you think happened, wormhole or back in time?"

"If I knew I'd tell you," she replied dryly. "How are you? Anything broken? You bleeding anywhere?" There was movement next to her and instantly she regretted attempting to look at the source as the world around her began turning cartwheels.

"My ribs hurt but I can breathe all right, so they're probably not broken. I inhaled a lot of dust- we both did, I think- but other than that I think I'm okay. You?"

Natasha breathed the smallest sigh of relief before replying. "Nothing's broken but I'm bleeding from my forehead and I think I bit my cheek when I hit the railing, 'cause I can taste blood." She shifted experimentally and decided to omit the shards of glass embedded in her back from her injury roster. Her vision chose that particular moment to stop spinning. The sky above her solidified into a dusky reddish-purple backlit by the millions of lights from the city under it. "Clint... where are we?"

She heard her partner's breath catch for a moment as he surveyed the surrounding area. "Nat... I think we're in Budapest."

* * *

***holds up cardboard sign* ****_Starving author, will work for reviews_**


	2. Chapter 2: Crash Landing

**Wow, this didn't take me forever to update or anything... Sorry 'bout that.**

**Don't own, never did, never will.**

**...Enjoy.**

* * *

"Ungh..." Tony woke up with what felt like the worst hangover ever. And he'd had a lot of hangovers. He mumbled various oaths under his breath as be rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. _Well then._ As his head cleared incrementally, it became evident that wherever he was, it was _definitely_ not the R&D floor of Stark Tower. "What the hell..." The shadows cast by the twilit sky obfuscated much of the surrounding area, much to his displeasure, though it was slowly becoming obvious that he was in an alley of some kind or another as his head cleared further still. _This sucks._

A streetlight flickered into life somewhere behind him, making the genius spin around in shock and groan as the hangover-esque whatever the heck he had made itself manifest. Tony stood for a moment, contemplating his choices, before staggering off in the direction of the streetlight. _This really sucks..._

* * *

Bruce had a rather rude awakening when something pecked his forehead. Hard. He raised a hand to sluggishly bat at whatever was assaulting his face and consequently felt something warm and wet hit it as his assailant took off. Bruce grumbled something to the effect of "damn birds" under his breath before pushing himself up onto his elbows and wiping bird poop off his forehead.

He encountered his second issue shortly thereafter: he was completely naked. This time he actually did swear, and rather loudly at that. Nothing happened save a frightened pigeon, disgruntled by the sudden explosion of noise, hastily taking flight.

_At least I landed in a warehouse..._ Bruce forced himself to look on the bright side. _Nobody got hurt. _

However, he soon found that it was very difficult to stay on the bright side when he currently had no clothes on and no idea where he was.

* * *

The first feeling Phil Coulson's body registered was numbness. And then the cold. His body jackknifed suddenly through the freezing cold water as he quickly came to his senses and his lungs began burning with the need for oxygen. And then a name flashed through his head.

_Maria. _

She had to be here somewhere too...

_Get to Maria. _

_There!_ Coulson spotted a dark shape moving steadily downward, fine streams of bubbles drifting from it. He kicked his way through the frigid abyss (why did it seem like he was swimming through syrup?) and grabbed ahold of his superior's collar before kicking desperately for the faint glimmer of light that promised a surface.

He broke the surface first, gasping desperately for oxygen. Maria's head broke shortly afterward, but something was wrong. The deputy director was unmoving. Phil pulled her to his side and began to crawl toward the shore.

"Breathe, dammit," Coulson growled under his breath in a rare display of emotion. He counted the compressions in his head as his hands steadily pushed down below Hill's ribcage. _Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty._ He paused only to cover Hill's lips with his own and breathe deeply into her mouth. _Thirty compressions, two breaths._ Phil went back to pushing rhythmically on her chest, though he was slowly beginning to lose hope. Hill's body spasmed suddenly under his hands and he withdrew quickly as she twisted onto her side and began hacking and choking on river water. At last she drew a deep, shuddering breath and rolled over onto her back.

"Can you walk?" The question was asked in the same unflappable, infuriatingly calm manner that Phil Coulson always possessed. Hill rolled onto her other side to come face to face with a shivering, soaked to the bone, tieless Coulson, who looked at her with genuine concern shining in his eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a part of her that currently wasn't going into hypothermic shock, noted that it was the first time in living memory that Phil Coulson had been seen without a tie. She nodded jerkily once her mind was refocused from the unexpected tangent, shivering from the water-induced chill. He extended a clammy hand to help her to her feet. "Come on, there's an entire warehouse district not too far from here where we can change and warm up," he added, looping an arm around her waist to support her and chuckling to himself when she irritably swatted it away. She may have just almost drowned, but she wasn't _that_ desperate yet.

* * *

"So Budapest, huh?" Clint might as well have been talking to himself for all the response he got from Natasha. "I wonder if this is present day?"

"What would make you think it isn't?" his partner queried, wondering the same thing herself but refusing to vocalize her confusion.

"Time machine, remember?"

"Well, yeah… but that doesn't mean we got sent back in time. Maybe we just got transported somewhere else."

"Keep on dreaming, Tasha."

The duo was strolling around some of Budapest's quieter streets, dressed in clothes they had stolen off of some poor person's clothesline. (_Why_ someone would hang a full complement of clothes out of a window was beyond Natasha. Provided the line was five stories up… but that wouldn't stop anybody _that_ desperate, would it?)

Streetlights flickered to life above their heads, casting a golden glow over everything.

"Hey Barton? Look at this," Natasha said, a new tone of urgency lacing her voice. A newspaper vendor, previously loudly marketing his wares a few yards down the street, and one of the papers looked like it had gotten caught in an earlier, more violent surge of the city's fickle winds. Pages lay scattered across the cobblestones, the newsprint smeared with ink and emblazoned with footprints from those who couldn't be bothered to pick it up. Natasha had stooped to pick up one that had blown across her path and was now holding the front page to the paper and staring at the date on the page. Clint ambled over, ignoring the concern in her voice and glancing at the page. What he saw made him do a double-take. Splashed clearly in black-and-white across the top corner was _June 4__th__, 2004_. Natasha turned her head to lock her gaze with hers and stared at him, an undertone of shock and – dare he even say it – _fear_ in the assassin's eyes.

* * *

_June 2__nd__, 2004 23:49_

"_Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton." Fury inclined his head at each agent in turn. "Good thing you showed up so quick."_

"_Sir, what's the point of this?" Natasha fought the urge to smile just a little bit at her partner's irritation. Master assassin though he was, he was never one for being woken up in the middle of the night for an emergency briefing._

"_I've got a mission for you, Barton," the director replied, raising an eyebrow and giving the annoyed agent the patented Fury shut-the-hell-up-I'm-telling-you-something-important look. (There was actually an ongoing betting pool as to whether Fury actually had a patent hanging in his office for the look. So far, nobody had been able to actually get into his office.) "And you, Romanoff. The Council is still pretty pissed that I let you live, and they're looking high and low for ways to get you out. They want you to, ah, prove your loyalty-"_

"_With what, a suicide mission?!" Barton was annoyed – scratch that, more than annoyed - at the Council's refusal to see the major asset that he had brought in. Stupid goddamn politicians. How did such idiots get that important of a job in the first place?_

"_No, a dangerous mission. One that is designed to test Romanoff's loyalty as well as her skills in espionage and covert assassination."_

"_And that's soooo much better…" Now he was pissed. "Why don't we send the Council out there, see how well they can do our jobs-"_

"_Barton!" Natasha finally said over her partner's indignant ranting, "Barton, shut up. I'm fine with this. I'll prove myself a hundred times over if I have to."_

"_Then let's hope it doesn't come to that," Fury muttered under his breath. "Here's the mission brief. Have your covers memorized. You leave at 0300 hours, so get your asses out of here and go pack. Coulson will be in touch with you through these." He handed the duo two almost microscopic commlinks. "They fit right inside your ear," the director said by way of explanation. The two simply shrugged, grabbed their respective comm, and headed for the door._

"_Oh, and agents?" Fury's tone made them both stop and turn to face him. "You have a clock on this one. They want it done by June 10__th__ or Agent Romanoff is being terminated – _permanently_."_

* * *

"We're back, Clint," Natasha said, staring her partner down. "We've gone back to Budapest."

* * *

**So whatcha think? Hate it? Love it? Hate me? Leave a review! **

**In other news, I got _Secret Avengers #1_ over the weekend, and S;DLKFJ;ADSLKFJA'SDFJ BUDAPEST. HOLY CRAP. It actually is kinda-sorta what I thought it would be... kinda. XD I'm also getting a laptop for my birthday, but I get to pick it out (oh joy...). I've got a $500 limit and some requirements (like no macbooks, at least a 15" screen, etc.), but if any of you guys out there have a good laptop for under $500, lemme know!**


	3. Chapter 3: Mustache Dude

**Chapter three, yay! Sorry for the sporadic updates. I've had a paper in English that's been occupying a great deal of my time. But that's done, so wooo! More free time to write!**

* * *

JUNE 4, 2004

BUDAPEST, HUNGARY

19:22

"So if we've actually gone back in time to Budapest… where were we the night of June the fourth?" Clint wondered out loud, just for the sake of making noise. He quietly watched his shadow as it moved back and forth under the streetlights

"Running recon," Natasha replied without missing a beat. "You and Fury were scoping out the target and I was looking for his base with Hill."

"So the safe house is unattended."

"Yes."

And the safe house was…?"

"This way. Come on." Without further ado, he found himself being dragged down an alley by Natasha.

* * *

Tony dragged himself out of the alleyway into a near-empty street, blinking blearily a few times. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the few people scattered along the road paid no mind to a drunken-looking man dragging himself out of an alley. _What kind of city is this? _

He set his mind to the task of answering this question as he strode down the twilit street. In fact, Stark was so engrossed in his thinking that he did not realize the gradual increase in population until he was in a square. People bustled about with arms full of brown bags, the day's shopping concluded. Vendors were making a last-ditch effort to sell the last of their wares for the night, and children laughed and chased each other around the fountain while their mothers gossiped. Tony turned a full circle, staring at the life around him, not noticing the burly man directly in his path.

"Hé!" Now he noticed. The man (who was sporting a rather impressive walrus mustache) towered over Tony by a good four or five inches and was almost twice as broad.

"Nézd meg, hová megy, te idióta!"

"Pardon?"

"Hülye turisták. Nem beszél magyarul? Nem kell beszélni, hogy megértsék, mit fogok mondani!"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak... whatever it is you're speaking." Under his breath, Stark added, "JARVIS, translate." A crowd was beginning to crowd around the man (whom Tony had privately nicknamed Mustache Dude) and Tony. Some were snickering behind their hands. Apparently, this guy was the wrong guy to accidentally walk into after being shot into another time. "Jarvis, any day now..."

Now the bystanders were openly laughing at him. Mustache Dude had his fists out in front of him, looking like he was getting ready to throw a punch. Tony reluctantly assumed a defensive position and tried to assess his opponent. _Well then. _

* * *

The roads Natasha and Clint traveled grew more populated as they went along, navigating their way to the safehouse but not obviously doing so. Natasha was on the constant alert, listening to every snippet of conversation she heard. One thing in particular caught her attention:

"Gyerünk! Van egy harc a téren!"

It was a child- a teenager really, calling to his friends. "Néhány turista összefutottunk régi Estevan újra."

"A tourist, hm?" Natasha muttered under her breath to Clint, who had caught the last bit of the boy's words. "Wonder if it's one of ours."

"Only one way to find out," he replied tersely, and they both turned to follow the small group of boys.

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet as he wiped away a drop of sweat from its precarious position near his hairline. At the moment, he had the upper hand due to sheer agility, but Moustache Dude had the advantage of sheer muscle mass. The guy fought like a tank, throwing all his weight forward into his punches and moving essentially in straight lines. Tony, on the other hand, fought like a boxer: always moving, always dodging, always three steps ahead of his opponent. It was a simple matter of just ducking under the dude's punches and throwing in blows where he could. Unfortunately, ducking and dodging took up a lot more energy than barreling in straight lines, and Tony was getting tired.

A flash of red hair in the audience caught his eye. _Spidey?_ He only knew one person with hair that red... Tony paid dearly for the distraction. A vicious right hook from Moustache Dude, who had taken advantage of the distraction, sent him stumbling back a few steps. He swore under his breath before straightening up and dodging the guy's next assault. This was getting real old, real fast.

"It's Stark," Tasha mumbled, mostly to herself but also to Clint. "Of course it's Stark, nobody else would be stupid enough to get themselves into trouble with the locals within an hour of being here. That _idiot_!" She heaved a sigh of extreme annoyance before adding, "I guess we should go save his sorry ass."

"But Na-at, do we _have _to?" Clint whined.

"Sadly, yes. He kind of owns the building we live in."

"Fine. Let's go break up a street fight."

* * *

Okay, Tony was starting to get really tired. He could only dodge this guy's punches for so long... And Moustache Dude didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat. Some of the front-row bystanders were talking among themselves, and Tony was pretty sure he saw some kind of money changing hands. Oh, so they were taking bets on him now?

"Estevan, menj vedd ki valaki a saját méretét. Go pick on someone your own size!" a bystander called out. _Hang on, that sounded like Legolas._

"Nem!" the bulky man replied, swinging at Tony yet again. The billionaire just barely doged it. The world was beginning to spin a little...

"I said, _pick on someone your own size_," Clint Barton growled as he swung a vicious right hook at the burly man. Tony blinked a few times before stepping back towards the edge of the ring. A hand closed in a vice grip around his bicep.

"Move your ass, Stark," Natasha Romanoff growled into his ear and yanked him back into the crowd.

"Legolas?" Tony asked, stumbling over his feet as Natasha marched him through the square.

"He'll catch up," she replied absently. "Trust me."

* * *

_Where was a friendly security guard when you need him?_ That was the question Dr. Bruce Banner had been asking himself repeatedly over the last ten minutes as he hunted around the warehouse he had crashed into for something, _anything_ that he could wear. His search so far had been futile. The only things his search had uncovered thus far were empty, dusty, tarp-covered crates. _Hang on... tarps..._ This could work. Grimacing to himself at the prospect of what he was about to do, Bruce gingerly untied one of the ancient blue tarps and pulled it off the crate. He shuddered a little in disgust as it released a small mushroom cloud of dust. _Well, sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do... _Half an hour and one makeshift toga later, a _highly _embarrased Dr. Banner (he still had _some_ dignity left, even if there was no one around to witness his shame) made his way out of the now-partially destroyed warehouse and began trekking towards what he hoped was the end of the warehouse district.

"So where are we headed, now that we're done with our little excursion?" Despite the bruises blooming splendidly across his face, Tony Stark was still a pain in the ass. Natasha simply huffed irritably, not dignifying the question with an answer.

"Where's Legolas? You'd think he'd have caught up by now," he added a moment later. And a few seconds after that: "Hey Nat,-"

Stark let out an "Oomph!" of surprise as he suddenly found himself pinned (rather uncomfortably) against a brick wall with a knife at his throat.

"_Don't_. Call me Nat," Natasha hissed dangerously before releasing him. Tony straightened his ruffled dress shirt with as much aplomb as one who had just been pinned up against a wall could as she began walking again. "You call me Natasha, Agent Romanoff or Black Widow. Not Nat. Or Tasha. Or Spidey," she added as he opened his mouth. "Now move, people are going to start to stare." Stark shut his mouth obstinately and followed her down the street, looking rather like a kicked puppy.

* * *

MARCH 16, 2013

S.H.I.E.L.D. HELICARRIER

15:25

It took all of Agent Jasper Sitwell's self-control to not dive under the desk in Director Fury's office and curl up in a whimpering, shaking ball as he stood in front of the furious man. The livid director of SHIELD practically had steam coming out of his ears. Hadn't the dude ever heard of the saying "don't kill the messenger"? Apparently he hadn't, because that was what the director of SHIELD was about to do.

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY DISAPPEARED_?! I SEND THEM TO DO _**SIMPLE SURVEILLANCE**_ AND THEY WIND UP SCREWING UP AND GETTING SHOT TO _GOD KNOWS WHERE_ AND NOW I AM MISSING MY FOUR BEST AGENTS AND THE ONLY PEOPLE ON MY TEAM THAT ARE ACTUALLY _FROM THIS CENTURY_. AND DO NOT EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN, SITWELL, BECAUSE I CANNOT CALM DOWN WHEN I AM MISSING _SHIELD'S FINEST_!" Fury wasn't even out of breath yet. "Call in Pym. We need to find a way to get them back."

* * *

**Ooooh, what's this?! Henry Pym's making an appearance! And, naturally, Janet too, because I can't have one without the other and I really want to try my hand at writing them together.**

**Guys, is it too much to ask you to review? I got three reviews last chapter, but no **_**real**_** feedback on my writing. I would really appreciate a second opinion or three on my style and whatnot- I tend to write in the vernacular, and I'm not sure if everyone who's read this story enjoys/prefers/does not prefer it to be written in that style. Please let me know how my writing is! I can't improve otherwise.**

**TRANSLATIONS: (please forgive the inaccuracies, my school doesn't offer Hungarian as a language...)**

**Hé! - Hey!  
**

**Nézd meg, hová megy, te idióta! - Watch where you're going, you idiot!  
**

**Hülye turisták. Nem beszél magyarul? Nem kell beszélni, hogy megértsék, mit fogok mondani. - Stupid tourist. You do not speak Hungarian? You do not need to speak it to understand what I am going to say.  
**

**Gyerünk! Van egy harc a téren! - Hurry! There's a fight in the square!**

**Néhány turista összefutottunk régi Estevan újra! - Some tourist ran into old Estevan again!  
**

**Estevan, menj vedd ki valaki a saját méretét. - Go pick on someone your own size.  
**

**Nem - No**


End file.
